


A New Braid

by luthor_pendragon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Flirting, Gift, Hair Braiding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:36:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthor_pendragon/pseuds/luthor_pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dwarves are redoing their hair at Beorn's after the goblin fiasco. Thorin doesn't have anyone to help him, and Bilbo doesn't need his done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Braid

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm new to this ship, but it's still really cute. Had to spit this out. Enjoy.

Bilbo watched thoughtfully as he and the dwarves sat around the fireplace at Beorn’s. The Company had finally gotten a chance to relax and catch up on food and sleep, so now they were seeing to more trivial matters. In this case, they had all taken out their braids to redo them, after the way they had been messed up by their excursion in the goblin tunnels and the fire fiasco in the trees.

Each one had their little beads and metal clips set in a neat pile in front of them, having been taken out and waiting to be replaced. Some of the dwarves that had braids on the back of their head that were shaped a certain way, like Dori, were sitting in front of their family members to get them done correctly.

Dori, Nori, and Ori sat together. As did Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur (It took four hands to do Bombur’s beard the correct way). Balin didn’t have braids, and Dwalin only had the one behind his left ear, so they were helping the others. Oin and Gloin sat facing each other, as did Fili and Kili. The only one that sat alone was Thorin.

It seemed the king of the dwarves was either waiting his turn, or he was just doing it by himself. After a moment of careful observation, Bilbo realized it was the latter. _Perhaps he didn’t want help?_ But that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t see what he was doing.

Gathering his courage, the hobbit approached him. “Would like some help with that?”

Thorin looked up at Bilbo. “What makes you think I would need any help?’ he grumbled.

Bilbo shrugged. “Everyone else is getting help, except you. I figured it took more than one person to do it right, but you were sitting alone. I don’t do anything with my hair, so I thought I’d offer.”

“And what do you know about braiding hair? Is it not commonplace among you halflings to leave your curls as they are?” By this time, the other dwarves had slowed their progress to watch the interaction between the two.

Laughing, their burglar shook his head. “Certainly not. We keep it neat just as you do, though not in the same way.” He sat down across from Thorin and looked up at him. Being this close, Bilbo noticed that the dwarf king’s eyes were very similar in color to his own. A kind of mixture between blue and gray, though Thorin’s had more hazel in them.

Thorin was suspicious, and was slightly uncomfortable at this invasion of personal space. Usually the only one allowed to sit close enough to braid his hair was his sister, Dis.

“As you’ve noticed," continued Bilbo, "hobbit men do keep their hair curly, but generally like to keep it slightly shorter than what I have now.” He pulled on one curl to show that it was indeed fairly long, but when he let go, it sprang back up into place. “But since I’ve been traveling, going to the barber has been out of the question. Also, we tend to keep both the hair on our heads, and on our feet,” he indicated the thick curls atop his large feet, “well-combed and clean, but again, that has been difficult on the road.”

“I see,” said Thorin, watching thoughtfully. “And what of your women?”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, they don’t have beards, like your's do. No hobbit has facial hair, as a matter of fact. And it’s not that we like to be clean-shaven, it’s just that we can’t grow any to begin with. But I digress.” He scooted a little closer to Thorin to better inspect his beads without explicit permission. “As for their hair, well, they like to keep it longer, like your’s, but it is still rather curly, and can be near untamable. Many use special oils to hold it in place, or clip it up.”

“But do they braid it?” Now Thorin was interested. Much as hobbits were into family trees when it came to personal matters, dwarves were into proper hair and beard care.

“Yes. At the very least, the Tooks of Tuckborough do, of which my mother was one. She and her sisters would braid each other’s hair often, especially on special occasions, such as the Thain’s, that is, their father’s, birthday. May I?” He looked up at Thorin as his hand hovered over the clips.

After a tense moment, Thorin gave a small nod. He watched nervously as Bilbo picked up one of the clamps that he kept on the end of the braids that went down by his ears and inspected it thoroughly.

“What is a Thain?” asked the dwarf politely.

Bilbo fiddled with the small piece of metal, learning its mechanism. “He’s a leader of sorts. Head of the Took clan, and therefore a good third of the Shire. He’s was the leader of the Shire, once upon a time, but now he’s just sort of a figurehead, though he still has a great deal of sway in the political and economical decisions.”

“So he’s a king?”

Bilbo nodded his head. “I suppose you could say that, yeah. Sort of.”

“That would make your mother a princess, would it not?”

This time the hobbit shrugged. “Yeah, I guess she would have been.”

“Then that would make you a prince, Master Baggins.” Thorin smiled a little.

Bilbo laughed. "Yes, I suppose it would. Thanks to the inheritance from her, I am one of the richest hobbits in all of Hobbiton. And Bag-End is the largest smial in town. Indeed, one of the largest in all the Shire. But of course, that’s thanks to my father, who built the place. Wonderful carpenter. Dug it right out of the Hill, he did.”

Thorin smiled broader. It turns out that he and this hobbit had more in common than he thought. “So your sisters helped your mother with her hair then, when it was necessary?” he inquired, changing the subject back.

“Hmm? Oh no, I never had any sisters. I was an only child, which is really quite rare for hobbits. Especially in my family. My father was one of five children, and my mother was one of twelve.”

“Twelve?" Thorin was astounded. Dwarves never had that many offspring, even though they lived far longer than both hobbits and men. "How could they have possibly handled that many bairns?”

Bilbo shook his head, chuckling. “I have no idea.”

“So if you don’t have any sisters, then how-?”

“My mother taught me, so I could do hers when she had to go do something. Sure, I had plenty of female cousins, but none that lived in Hobbiton. Not to brag or anything, but I became good enough that I would create headdresses for her by weaving beads and flowers into her hair. She always was very pleased with it. Even had me help with the littler ones when we went to Tuckborough for a visit.”

“I see.”

“Mm-hmm, so…” Bilbo put down the last clamp and moved a little closer, “do you mind? I can help, but still, that’s only if you want me to.”

Thorin studied Bilbo carefully. He didn’t want to insult him by not accepting his offer, not after that conversation, but it was a very intimate thing, hair braiding. Something that was reserved for family members, or significant others. Still, it was an innocent proposal, and Mahal knew he was no good at it himself. After his mother died, and with his father and grandfather teaching him how to handle the affairs of the kingdom, and then having to travel and work constantly just to make a living, he hadn’t really had time to sit down and learn. Hesitantly, he nodded.

Gently, as if trying not to spook a horse, Bilbo reached passed the dwarf’s face and pulled out the braid near his left ear. Softly working it loose, he soon had all the strands separated, but they were still full of small knots. “Do you have a comb on you perchance?” he whispered.

Thorin held up the small comb he kept in his pocket.

“Ah, thank you.” A few minutes of working and Bilbo had picked the tangles out. Getting up, he moved all around the dwarf’s head, smoothing and combing as he went, until he came back around to the braid next to his right ear. Smoothing that out as well, Bilbo commented quietly with, “Your hair really is very nice, Thorin.”

Thorin’s cheeks went pink, but he didn’t say anything.

“There, I think that does it. Here, hang on to this for me, will you?” He handed back the comb and then separated out the necessary strands from the others.

His fingers danced smoothly side to side, the plait coming down from the scalp. Backing up to keep it tight, he worked until it hit the bottom. “Clamp, if you please,” he said, and a moment later there was one of the metal clamps in his hand. Switching to the other side, he did the same.

Thorin didn’t do his hair up as elaborately as the others did. Indeed, the only time he did more was when he was working, in which case it was often tied up in a bun on the crown of his head. “Thank you, Master Baggins,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome, and the name’s Bilbo.” He shook his head as he surveyed his work. “Honestly, you can’t use my first name like the others do? Or like you do with the others? I mean, I don’t really know if dwarves have surnames or not. As far as I’ve been able to tell, you just do “whatever-son-of-whoever”.

Thorin smiled a little. “Yes, that’s about right.”

“Well, then Bilbo, son of Bungo, at your service, Thorin Oakenshield.” He gave a little bow and Thorin actually laughed.

Bilbo smiled, but he didn’t meet the now shining eyes of the dwarf king. Instead, he was still looking at his hair. He stepped forward hesitantly. “May I.. May I try something?”

“Hmm, what?”

“Well… and I mean no disrespect by this, but it seems your hair is turning a bit gray, but it’s only a little bit, and it’s in these three strands down from your hairline. Tilt your head back a bit and hand me the comb.” With that, Bilbo stepped behind Thorin and ran his fingers through the dwarf’s locks, smoothing out the natural waves as best he could.

Thorin did as he was told, enjoying the feeling of the hobbit’s fingers, not that he’d ever admit it, and let Bilbo do as he would.

A couple minutes later, and Thorin had a nice, neat plait running down the back, with all of his silver hairs blended into it. “Hmm.”

“What?” Thorin tried looking up at the hobbit, but couldn’t move much without messing up his work.

“Oh, it’s just, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare clamp or bead on you?”

Thorin shook his head softly.

“I thought not. Alright, hold this, if you please; and here is your comb back. I'm finished with it.” Thorin took the end of the braid in his fingers and put his comb back in his pocket as Bilbo stalked away to dig through the kindling box.

“What are you doing?”

"Ah." Picking up a fairly thick piece, he came back and pulled out a small knife. Then he started whittling away at the stick.

By the time he was done, an hour later, the other dwarves had finished their work and were now watching the little hobbit intently. None of them had known that the lad had carving skills, or that it was possible to make such tiny knives. He used a bit of stone to smooth it out one last time and then held it up into the light. "Yes, I think that'll do," he said to himself. Then he got up and went back to Thorin, who had been sitting patiently, still holding his new braid.

The hobbit took the plait and worked the tiny bead into place. “There. It may not be as fancy as some of your dwarven work. Indeed, it’s not even made out of metal, but it should hold.” He stepped back and surveyed his work, nodding. “Yes, that looks very nice.” Then he gave a great yawn, and, pointing towards the other end of the room, he said, “There’s a bronze looking glass over on the far wall. Why don’t go see it for yourself. As for me, I do believe I’m ready for bed.”

Thorin got up to look at his hair. Turning this way and that, the light from the fire’s reflection illuminated the back of his head quite well. It did look very nice, and it made his gray hairs look distinguished, rather than random. He knew he would get more, though. He was nearly 200 years old. It was only a matter of time. Maybe Bilbo could help him again as they came in?

Behind him, he could see the others. Balin winked at him, the wise, old, fool. Dwalin, too, had a small smile. The other’s just nodded their approval, showing respect, though Thorin suspected they were thinking the same thing the Fundin brothers were.

Going over to the piles of hay that served as their beds, Thorin found the hobbit nearly asleep. “Thank you, Bilbo,” he said quietly as he sat down.

Bilbo let out another deep yawn, but answered anyway. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” With that, he pulled his blanket a little tighter, and fell asleep.

Thorin, in turned, grabbed another blanket, and lay down next to him. The other dwarves joined them soon enough, but they left the two alone, sensing things that maybe the hobbit and the dwarf king hadn’t any sense of yet, despite what had happened during the encounter with Azog.

 

 


End file.
